


She's A Machine

by Gouryellan



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Canon Typical Misogyny, Everyone depicted in this fic is 18+, I will add more tags as I add more chapters, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sex, Smoking, Underage Drinking, but there is brief depiction of sex at ~18, just for fun, thank you everyone for being patient with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:47:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gouryellan/pseuds/Gouryellan
Summary: Or, 5 Times Mac cockblocks Dennis, and one time Dennis cockblocks Mac.
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	She's A Machine

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an idea I had in my head months ago, on my very cold very dark walk back from therapy. Once I put finger to keys, I realized that this might be longer than originally intended. I'm not one for editing, or drafts. I like to barrel through something like a steam engine, and that's not always the best method. But at the end of the day, this is just for fun while we wait for quarantine to end. 
> 
> As customary in many of these fics, this is going to span multiple decades, and I think the end will be fun and *Borat voice* "VERY NICE."

i

It starts out as innocuously as possible in the beginning. Mac isn’t a cockblock, or at least he isn’t trying to be – but prom is boring, if he’s being honest. Charlie had been kicked out almost immediately for grabbing some ugly blonde girl’s ass, and Mac can’t find Dennis anywhere. Time has been moving exceptionally slowly since his flask had been confiscated by one of the Nazi prom chaperones, so the prospect of smoking a roach under the football field’s bleachers is becoming increasingly more appealing.

Mac inconspicuously (or as subtly as one in an oversized tuxedo jacket can be) ducks out of the gymnasium and retreats down the darkened high school hallways, almost hoping to get caught. It would be a fitting end to an otherwise lackluster evening, he reasons. But he gets to a set of double doors leading to the exterior and gives them a tentative push. Unlocked. Typical, Mac thinks. Nobody at St. Joe’s really cares about their safety – he’s certain the bitch who stole his flask didn’t do so out of moral integrity, but more likely did so to get a cheap buzz and dull the persistent ache of her disappointing existence. The security in this school is a joke, he thinks. If he were in charge, he’d make sure everyone was safe. Nobody in, nobody out. He shakes his head and gives the metal door handle a decisive shove. The rusted hinges squeak in protest, but a beat of hesitation; and nobody follows him out. The doors make a quiet click when they shut behind him.

He immediately regrets his decision when he takes note of how brisk it is for early May. A synthetic suit jacket is a poor substitute for an actual coat, and Mac hasn’t quite filled out the way he had anticipated, leaving him devoid of any biological insulation to keep him warm. He folds his arms across his chest and decides that he will warm up as soon as he takes a few generous puffs of herb. Mind over matter, that kind of shit.

A short jog out to the football field finds Mac face to face with a familiar looking blonde, whose makeup has been smeared from what looks like tears.

“What the shit?” He recoils.

She snorts back a sob, clearly not expecting anyone to be witness to her sorrow. “Oh god, _Ronnie_.” Says the blonde. “Did Dennis send you out here to check on me?” RIGHT, Mac remembers. Dennis’ prom date, that’s why she looks so familiar. Lisa? Leah? He knows it’s something with an L. It’s not Maureen. She and Dennis had broken up for good when he passed around a semi-pornographic polaroid of her to his entire study hall one morning. By lunch, everyone knew about the photo. And when Maureen had found out, she had made a scene in front of the whole school, telling Dennis that he was a terrible, terrible human being or some shit. Mac isn’t sure why she made such an ordeal out of the situation. It was a relatively flattering picture, considering how repulsive looking she ordinarily is.

Leah makes another whimpering sound as she wipes her chin with the back of her wrist. It reminds Mac how much he can’t stand when chicks cry. Sure, in movies sometimes it leads to banging, but when it’s right in front of you, it’s…a word that he can’t quite place.

“Where’s Dennis?” Lisa repeats herself.

“How should I know; he’s your date isn’t he?” Mac can feel his window to enjoy a peaceful high under the bleachers waning. He wishes he had stayed home and watched Rocky IV, like he had originally intended. He could have sunken into the couch with a satisfying buzz, falling asleep to the sounds of the Russian sizing up his competition. But Dennis had pleaded with him, promising that tons of girls would fawn over him, considering how badass he looked in a tux. But there had been no fawning. And Dennis had disappeared with his date less than 30 minutes after arrival. No; Mac should have definitely listened to his instincts. Dolph Lundgren is so much more badass than prom. 

Rather than answering the question, Leah grunts, lifting the hem of her gown and sitting on the edge of the bench. “So, if Dennis didn’t send you, why are you here?” Her words sound more inquisitive than accusatory.

He contemplates her question momentarily. She doesn’t seem like a narc, but chicks are notoriously stupid, and she could be the kind to open her mouth inadvertently and say something incriminating to a teacher or parent.

He decides he’ll risk it.

“I was gonna get high”, he spits on the ground. It seems like the appropriate way to emphasize such a declaration.

“Oh”, she swallows around the word. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Mac gracelessly perches next to Lisa, tugging off his left shoe. He fishes around and retrieves a stained wax paper bag containing two flattened, soggy joints both of which look like they’ve been re-rolled several times. The ends are stained dark with ash.

“Well I was going to smoke with Charlie and Dennis but…” he extends his hand out to the sad blonde. She lifts a tentative eyebrow at him. How does she not understand the implication? “Or not.”

“No, wait.” She grabs his wrist. “I want to.”

Mac opens his palm and lets her take the slightly less squashed, albeit shorter joint. He pulls his gold Zippo lighter out of his pants pocket and lights his own first before passing it to blonde girl. He studies the way she withdraws her fingers, tentatively placing it to her mouth as she inhales. He can tell she hasn’t done this before. “Don’t call me Ronnie”, he says to her on an exhale. The smoke curls around his nose and drifts upward toward one of the nearby light poles.

“Oh”, she sounds sad again. “Sorry.”

“Jesus Christ, are you always this sad? No wonder Dennis ditched you.”

Lisa scoffs at him, squinting her eyes in a way that he assumes is intended to be menacing. Mac thinks in this light she kind of looks like that one chick from 90210. Kelly? Or Donna. Maybe Brenda? It doesn’t matter. “He said I was too chubby to wear a choker dress”, she finally confesses, stubbing out the joint on the edge of the bleacher, and flicking it onto the damp grass beneath. Mac steels himself to prevent from slapping her in the mouth. He could have gotten at least one or two last pulls from that. “Or his exact words were, ‘chubby girls shouldn’t wear choker neck dresses. Off the shoulder would be much more flattering for a girl of your size.’ I can’t believe I let that asshole see me naked.”

“I don’t think you’re chubby”, Mac offers. Stupid, maybe. Annoying, most certainly. But not chubby. If he’s being honest, he finds her body to be somewhat inviting, and the high that’s rising like a current around his insides is making the impulse to check her out increasingly more difficult to avoid.

“You don’t?” The question sounds like a plea, and before he has a chance to respond, Leah is shoving her tongue into his mouth. It’s darting around his own with a desperation that Mac finds to be both mildly disgusting, and also somewhat of a turn on. He can appreciate a chick who goes after what she wants, even if that makes her kind of a slut.

“Whoa, what the fuck”, Mac pulls away from her, and she leans in, attempting to once again recover the distance between them. “What are you doing?” His voice is shrill, and not at all sexy.

Dennis’ date drops her shoulders forward in defeat. “Look; Dennis is an asshole. And you’re being”, she chews on her bottom lip hesitantly, “kinda nice to me. I dunno, isn’t it obvious?” 

Mac glances down at the now burnt out remnants of the joint between his fingers, and back up to pretty sad girl. He thinks she really does look like 90210, and even if Dennis is his best friend, he’d probably understand, given the circumstances. Sure; banging his prom date would be huge violation in the best friend code of conduct, but Mac can’t in this moment seem to remember if he has any convictions, or why it would be a bad idea, especially if Dennis doesn’t find out. Even if Dennis does find out, Mac can always blame some other jackass like Tim Murphy or Brad Fisher. It’s not like Dennis wouldn’t believe his best friend, after all.

Mac hurriedly places his lighter and the squelched roach into his jacket pocket. “Wanna go under the bleachers and blow me?” He asks her.

She nods at him decisively.

Once they’re crowded on the ground underneath, it suddenly occurs to Mac that he hasn’t quite worked out the logistics. If he kneels on the grass, he’ll get stains on his tux and he won’t be able to return it without an added cleaning fee, and honestly, fuck that. This prom has cost him enough money as it is. He shucks off his suit jacket, and places it down inside out. Genius solution, if he says so, himself. The lining is green, and will hide any evidence of grass stains. “Lay down”, he instructs Lisa. It comes out more demanding than he intends. “We can just, like, do it instead.”

Leah just says ‘kay, without any hesitation, and proceeds to arrange herself into a comfortable position on her back. Mac unzips his fly and decides it might be better if he does this while he kisses her. He doesn’t have a condom, but he figures if she’s the kind of broad who will bang a semi-stranger on the cold wet grass, during prom, she probably won’t care if he busts on her stomach or thigh. He’s able to make it inside of her within the third try. It’s not his fault he missed the first two times. It’s dark as shit, and her dress is impossibly complicated, with multiple purposeless layers that he cannot begin to understand. Mac ignores the fact that his hands are trembling. It’s probably from the cold and the weed, not the fact that this is his first time. He’s not nervous; he’s coursing with energy, and it’s actually easier than he thought it would be to get laid. And the sex is definitely not boring or disappointing or frightening in the least. “I like your perfume”, he says to her, for lack of anything else to say, as he kisses her shoulder. Is sex supposed to be this quiet?

“I’m. Not. Wearing. Perfume.” Leila says between gasps. Mac assumes she’s full of shit, because she smells great – decidedly familiar. Like vanilla and cedar. Girls lie about the dumbest things, he thinks to himself, and he can feel that he’s already close to finishing. He’s found a rhythm that feels right, and when he looks down at Lisa, he decides she must be loving it too, based on how tightly her eyes are pinched shut. Mac can’t decide if he hopes he’s hurting her or not. He wishes he could tell Dennis how he made this chick sore from taking his dick, and he thinks one day he will share this with him. One day, Dennis will be proud of him for this. He’ll smile at him approvingly and say “hell yeah, you fucked her stupid, buddy.” He thinks that it’s almost exhilarating having shared the same chick with his best friend, and he bets Dennis will feel the same way. If they weren’t already blood brothers, this would be what seals it for them. He decides he’ll pose this as plan for Dennis to consider in the future. Banging the same sluts and laughing about it afterwards. Before he can stop himself, Mac is spilling into Leah, warmth and electricity being pulled involuntarily from his insides and emptied into another human being for good.

“Shit”, he hisses, not even attempting to pull out at this point, lowering himself with caution onto his side. He half hears her reassure him that she’s wearing her diaphragm, and that it’s okay. At least some sluts are prepared, he thinks to himself. 

He glances down at Leah, and is taken aback by how she returns his gaze. She has a sort of reverence in her eyes that he wishes she wouldn’t. He chooses to ignore it, sitting up and putting his wayward left shoe back on. He immediately feels like he’s committed a litany of sins, not against God, per se, but against his friendship with Dennis. He smiles back, despite himself, not knowing what else to do. He can’t afford her getting upset with him, now. He resolves that maybe he will keep this to himself, after all.

Rather than following blonde date into the school for the remainder of the evening, Mac opts to wait by the rented limousine. He can’t stomach any more Depeche Mode or Hawaiian punch, he’s already feeling sick, as it is. He wants to go home and shower for a month straight.

Mac pulls open the limousine door handle and startles when he sees Dennis looking up at him with a decidedly irritated glare. “Where the fuck have you been?” He asks after shaking his now empty flask onto his tongue.

“I was looking for you”, it’s not entirely a lie.

Dennis studies him for a moment, and Mac feels himself begin to flounder. Dennis’ head looks heavy, like he probably mixed booze with his mother’s Vicodin. Mac is relatively certain Dennis can’t detect anything suspicious at this point. “Well?” Dennis asks, sliding over to allow Mac space to sit down.

“Where’s your date?” Mac asks, immediately regretting the inquiry.

“Fat bitch”, Dennis laughs. “Who cares. Probably banging some loser.” The sting in Mac’s gut unfurls a little wider.

“I think I saw her flirting with Tim Murphy”, Mac laughs nervously. “She probably banged him, I bet.”

“Fuck her, right?” Dennis throws an arm around Mac, and the familiar vanilla and cedar of Dennis’ cologne makes Mac want to vomit.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @pollencovered woman on Tumblr. Thank you to anyone who reads this.


End file.
